


the win is easy

by nymja



Category: King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)
Genre: Gen, Pre-Relationship, The Mage as Merlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-05-24
Packaged: 2018-11-04 08:08:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10986912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymja/pseuds/nymja
Summary: Arthur rolls what’s left of the apple between his palms. “Tell me your name?”“For now,” she whispers in an uncomfortable concession, “You may call me Emrys.”





	the win is easy

**Author's Note:**

> I want the Mage to be in the Merlin role, damn it ;)

“Why did you feast with those men?”

Her voice, cutting and direct, has him stumbling as he enters the hall. He looks up as soon as he catches himself, brows raising slightly as he takes in the hooded figure sitting at an edge of his round table.

It’s been four months. And not a word of the mage since then. No eagles. He sees only the bottom of her braid, the edge of her chin. Her fingertips are pressed on the flat of the table.

Slowly, he bites down on the rest of the apple in his mouth, pulling it away with an obnoxious crunch. “Mad you weren’t invited?”

“They care little for friendship,” she continues without acknowledging his statement. “Open coffers do not get respect.”

He walks until he stands next to her, leaning against the table and crossing one leg in front of the other. His brows raise. “So you’re a political adviser.”

She tilts her head back, the angle letting him see her face clearly. Her lips are tightly pressed, annoyed. “The sword must be used, wants to be used.” The fingers on the table begin to trace a small circle. “Defend your gates, or at the very least, leave them close to slavers.”

He leans forward. She stares at him, unimpressed.

“I’ve got a boat,” he states.

Her eyes narrow. “A boat.”

“Yeah. Big boat.”

She eyes him, waiting for a longer explanation. He rolls his shoulders, unable to resist (he suspects she knows that about him by this point).

“Turns out, I like keeping all 10,000 of my subjects in England.” He extends his hands, one of which is still holding the apple. “To do that, I’d only need about…” his eyes narrow. “A thousand boats.”

“And you have one.”

“That’s one more than I had before dinner.” He chomps down on the apple contemplatively.

Silence. The mage lets out a breath.

“It is the viking’s boat.”

Arthur can’t help himself. He winks. “More is won with wine.”

“The winning is easy.” The mage stands, walking the opposite way from him around the table. Her fingers dance over its polished surface, as if she’s seeing who will sit before it. What they will do. She stops at the missing quarter, looking up and removing her hood. “It is the governing that is hard.”

“...is that why you’ve come back?”

“I am here to guide you.” She meets his gaze. The edges of her eyes glow with the red of her powers. “You carry what is left of my kingdom in your hands. I will help you build yours with it.”

He tilts his head. She watches him calmly.

“Does this mean you’ve missed me?”

Her expression does not shift.

He bites the inside of his cheek. She is the only one with ties to the magic that rests in his lands, in his scabbard. There’s been an tentative friendship between them, a burgeoning camaraderie that makes him both uneasy and fearless.

Arthur rolls what’s left of the apple between his palms. “Tell me your name?”

Her touch falls from the wood.

Silence stretches, and he wonders if he’s been too forward-- a strange sentiment for him.

“For now,” she whispers in an uncomfortable concession, “You may call me Emrys.”

“Emrys,” he tries out. Clearly a moniker, but he is a fan of those. He smiles, feeling it genuine, and gestures to one of the empty chairs. “You have a place at this table, for as long as you wish to have it.”

“...thank you.” The admission makes him turn to fully face her. She ignores him, pulling out a chair and situating herself within it. At his stare, she raises her gaze.

“Well?” She says flatly, near disinterested. “Bring me wine.”

The laugh escapes, from somewhere deep within his chest.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy to continue if there's interest! Would be moving toward Arthur/Mage ship.


End file.
